Benjamin didn’t care what his parents said about the festival —- and they had a lot of opinions, for two people who traveled so much and never actually showed up to it —- he loved it. Loved the flowers, loved the colors, loved the laughter and the music and the way everyone seemed to come together; envied, even, the people who exchanged arrangements and bouquets from the Blooming Hope Booth, eyes alight with love and, in some cases, bashfulness. Benjamin loved this time of year; and, quietly, wished he could stop time in this moment forever.
Which is why, perhaps, he managed to bump into someone lightly as he walked, eyes trailed on one of the bigger flower arcs, completely captivated. He stumbled slightly, then looked over at the other person, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry!” he apologized profusely. “Got distracted with the—” he made a lame gesture. “Flower things. So many flowers. And colors. Are you okay?” he asked.
The festival was a lot for him to handle - the smiling families and couples were enough to give him a headache. As he was probably rolling his eyes at someone, he was caught off guard by someone running into him. “It was barely a shoulder bump, man,” Dylan teased, a hand grabbing the other’s shoulder, as he let out a laugh. “I think I’ll be alright.” Maybe if he was hungover, the bump might’ve sent his uneasy stomach into a rough patch, but he surprisingly wasn’t. Not that he was sober last night, but thankfully not drunk. “You good, though?” He raised an eyebrow, glancing around to the flowers that surrounded them. Benjamin was right, at least with the colors being a bit distracting, but knowing him, he was sure they had different opinions about it. “So, pretty boy,” he smirked, releasing his grip from his shoulder, as he looked around the festival. “You got a hot date to this thing?” He shoved a hand in his back pocket, before looking over at his friend. “If not, you should keep me company. I’m not really in the mood for flower shopping.”















